


The Warden-Commander's Family

by yunhaiiro



Series: DA Shared Universe [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunhaiiro/pseuds/yunhaiiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dealing with the Architect, the Warden-Commander will need to deal with more mundane matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warden-Commander's Family

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after Awakening.

There's just too much to rebuild.

Vigil's Keep sustained little damage in the darkspawn attack thanks to the Wardens' help, but Amaranthine burned to the ground and no noble is going to let Kwerkus forget about it.

Day in and day out, messengers come and go to either deliver more letters and petitions to the Warden-Commander, or his answers to their angry tirades. He feels as if he ran out of diplomacy a month ago.

Now that there's no war, only bureaucracy remains.

Kwerkus hates it.

His bedroom-slash-office is in the highest room on one of the towers, repurposed from a messenger birds' coop. Kwerkus has heard rumours that he chose it because he wanted to appear distant and having to climb all those stairs before reaching his office was a punishment on its own and therefore good for discipline. In reality, he just finds the height reassuring.

There's a half-wall that divides the room: his desk (massive, but dwarfed by all the scattered papers over it) in front of it, with a metal chimney on the right side. Behind the wall there's the bed, if you could call it that: it's more a nest of blankets and pillows.

The windows are sparse and small, barring one on the bed's side, and the room is always somewhat dark, but Kwerkus can rely on his elven sight (and candlelight, if he's feeling tired), so it only bothers human recruits, who see it as yet another eccentricity he has specifically to unnerve them.

At present, in the middle of the night, it is way too dark for him to see without a light source and the recently-replaced candle is burning bright, but the missives' letters are simmering in front of his eyes no matter how hard he tries to focus.

He gives up on Ser Hildebrand's complaints, and scatters the rest of the letters with his hand in case any catches his attention.

One does.

It's an odd letter. For one, the envelope paper is rough and the wax seal is just a round stain without any emblem emblazoned. Furthermore, it's not addresed to "Warden-Commander Mahariel" but simply to "Kwerkus". The letters are uneven, lines written over twice, and the "s" looks like an "f".

He opens it with care, breaking the wax instead of using the paper knife, and inside finds two sheets of paper, each obviously written by a different person.

He sets the one with neat but small and crowded handwriting aside for a moment, and starts reading the one with random capitals, too big letters and, in the margin, a picture of what looks like a person riding a halla.

The one from his daughter.

Moss (Méraud was her real name, but Kwerkus didn't trust himself not to botcher the Orlesian and the nickname had stuck) was now 8 years old. A year and a half ago, both him and Zevran had visited the Denerim's Alienage newly re-opened orphanage. Little elves scurried around while the soft-spoken woman in charge tried to get them to line up. Zevran was picking up kids when they ran too close to him, spinning them and laughing alongside them.

Kwerkus, for his part, was standing very still, a bit to the side, trying not to get in the way of any kid's trajectory. Some still bumped into him. They blinked, looked up at him, gaped at his vallaslin, and promptly ignored him to resume their races.

Then he had noticed one who was leaning on the far wall, dark-skinned, mop of black hair covering their face and making no motion towards them.

The caretaker noticed him looking at them and apologized with a smile. "She doesn't talk much. In fact, she hasn't even told us her name and she doesn't like any that we've tried to call her..."

Zevran, now kneeling on the floor and impossibly covered in kids, glanced at Kwerkus with a knowing look. Kwerkus didn't look back at him, but the decision was obvious already.

And that's how they took her home.

(The home the King and Queen, also known as their best friends, had graciously procured for them. Alistair had assured them they didn't have to live in the Alienage if they didn't want to, of course; Malia had stopped him from talking further when she realized that Kwerkus had his jaw set and his hands wound into fists. So they got the house closest to the vhenadahl, and both them and the royalty had made every effort to turn the slums into a nice and welcoming part of the city.

Then, when it had come to her name, Kwerkus had suggested calling her Malia, Zevran insisted on Maria, and the kid acknowledged neither. They decided to ask all their friends for names, figuring that they would find one she liked eventually. The ones who were away from Denerim (Leliana, Wynne...) send back letters, but they didn't bother to ask Sten.

Leliana, in fact, was the one who sent a ridiculously long letter filled with Orlesian names neither of them was sure how to pronounce. Eventually, they gave up and went to the market to ask an Orlesian merchant to read them aloud to them. When she reached "Méraud", the kid suddenly lightened up and pulled on Kwerkus sleeve.

"You like that one...?"

A vigorous nod.

Sighing, he recovered the letter from the merchant and thanked her, then stared at the sheet of paper as if it had offended him personally.

"Meh- Mah- Ah, forget it. I'm just going to call you Moss."

At that, the kid looked up at Kwerkus and smiled broadly. He blinked, looked away and almost blushed and Zevran found the whole thing adorable.

3 months later, Kwerkus had been promoted to Warden-Commander and had to leave for Vigil's Keep.

And Zevran had been increasingly paranoid about the Crows' more than possible, inminent attempt to finish him off again.

And so, Kwerkus had reasoned the best course of action was to take Méraud to the Hinterlands, to the Dalish settlement he had pledged for after ending the Blight. Ashalle, the woman who had raised him, was there. She could take care of Méraud, no doubt.

The day they all went their separate ways was tough. They all cried. They all promised to write all the letters they could (Méraud pinky promised to write them herself as soon as she learned how).

And so, their little made-up family had scattered.

Back in the candlelit office, Kwerkus reads through Méraud's first hand-written letter with something akin to pride. There aren't any earth-shattering news: she describes her days in the Hinterlands, raves about how much she likes reading even if it's still difficult and how she loves the creators' stories. That she has heard some things about the Wardens and what Dad does and even though it sounds scary, she knows he can do anything. Musings about the hunters and the keepers, gushing over the hallas and how she got to ride one the other day (that's what the drawing is for, then), even if Ashalle was worried all the time that she would fall off, but she didn't.

Kwerkus scans through the page with a smile on his face.

Finally, he sets the letter down and picks up Ashalle's.

There, it's like reading a status report from his scouts. Everything that's going well, and everything that isn't, in crisp and clear language. Then, the tone changes when she starts writing about Méraud and how she can't believe she's the same quiet little girl he had brought more than a year ago.

At the end of the letter, in an unconventionally hesitant hands, she writes:

"I know what happened at Amaranthine and how busy you must be right now, but I wanted to ask you a favour. Moss has been going on and on about you since I lend her a book about the Wardens. She wants to see griffons, and warriors, but above all, she misses you deeply. I would ask that you allow us to come visit Vigil's Keep. She wouldn't ask you directly, but it's all she's been talking about as of late. I know a fortress isn't a place for a little girl and an old woman, but surely you can spare a week to play host and father? I can tell Moss would treasure the memory forever.

Please answer as soon as you can."

Kwerkus let his head fall backwards and stared at the high ceiling, letter still in hand.

The worst of the fight had passed a while ago, and there isn't any real danger hanging over them. He has no reason to refuse, beyond using duty as an excuse (a duty he doesn't even feel is a priority at the moment), which sounds like something a bad father would do. He had listened to enough of Nathaniel's rants to gleam that much.

But the road _could_ be dangerous... He'd have to send a escort. And he'll have to tell Varel that they will be expecting guests...

He starts planning in his head while reaching for the ink.

 

* * *

 

 

First time in the morning, Kwerkus climbs down to the backyard, looking for Nathaniel.

Sure enough, he's up and just starting his training exercises. He puts the bow down when he sees the Commander approaching and nods in acknowledgement.

This is not an unusual occurence: both are always the first to rise (Anders doesn't even get up until lunch, most days) and they tend to train together in companiable silence. Nathaniel is still using his granfather's bow, the one Kwerkus recovered for him. As for the Commander himself, he often sets the crossbow aside (wouldn't exactly be fair otherwise) and trains with the ancient elven longbow he can't even recall acquiring1.

But today he brings no bow and there's an air of intent around him.

"I have a favour to ask."

Nathaniel looks surprised for a second, but hides it well.

"Of course, Commander."

"I need you to go to the Hinterlands and escort two people back here. Dalish elves. I'll ask Velanna to go along with you, just in case. They might not trust a human even if I send word ahead."

Nathaniel bows his head but peeks at his face before asking:

"Is this official business, Commander?"

"No, it's not. It's... personal."

Nathaniel doesn't ask anything else and Kwerkus drifts away, praying Velanna proves just as easy to convince.

 

* * *

 

 

She does, in a sense, because when she realizes she's going to meet other Dalish she eagerly agrees to go. But she's not going without an explanation, and Kwerkus, though trying to be sparse in details, ends up telling her they're escorting his daughter and his surrogate mother. Velanna seems delighted at the prospect, which is fortunate because it means both her and Nathaniel are ready to leave that same day.

When Anders finally shows up (at lunch, of course) he asks about Nathaniel. "Just left on a mission", the recruits tell him, and he looks inquisitorially at the Commander while Kwerkus ignores him completely. If he cares so much, he should say it out loud.

The days between Nathaniel and Velanna's departure and their arrival, the Commander spends most of his time in his office and no one sees him for days on end. One particular day, Oghren is seen in the courtyard shouting up a tree to "let go of this stupid elf thing", and the recruits start wondering if Oghren's finally lost it.

But then they come back safely, almost at sundown. Méraud is a ball of tired limbs but excited energy, wrapped up in a travelling cloak way too big for her. As soon as Nathaniel helps her down the horse, she bounces around looking at everything, until she sees Kwerkus and runs to his arms, screaming a "DAAAAD" that makes several birds fly away in indignant surprise.

Kwerkus picks her up (creators, she's getting heavy) and waves to Ashalle, who's getting delicately out of the other horse, aided by Velanna.

Méraud catches a lock of her father's hair and pulls.

"Your hair is getting shaggy!"

Kwerkus ruffles her mop of hair, now several inches longer.

"Look who's talking."

Ashalle approaches them with a tired smile.

"It's good to see you, da'len."

Kwerkus wraps her in an embrace with the arm he has free, while Méraud squeaks at getting caught between the two.

"How was the travel?"

"Awfully tiring, as you can probably imagine. But you couldn't have sent a better escort. Velanna is a very clever young woman. I'm sure she could be a wonderful Keeper if she reigned in her temper... but she knows our stories and there's nothing Moss likes best."

Velanna beamed from behind them and pulled a face at Méraud, who answered pulling one of her own.

"And the human... I had my reservations, but he's been very respectful and kind. And he is good with a bow! He's defended us from wild animals as surely as a hunter would have."

Nathaniel is looking busy, trying to get the horses back to the stables, but he looks over for a second and nods at Kwerkus. He nods back, trying to convey all his gratitude in the simple gesture.

"Now, dear, is there somewhere we can eat? We're starving..."

 

* * *

 

 

They had arrived in time for the usual dinner, so all the preparation the seneschal needs to do is bring two more chairs to the dining room. One of them ends up being completely unnecessary, because Méraud spends the evening going through almost everyone's lap as they coo over her.

Right now, she's sitting on Anders, who is delighted at having a kid over: he tells her of Ser Pounce-a-lot, he does a couple of magic tricks to entertain her... (Nathaniel, sitting on his left, is less than thrilled at this and eyes the thin smoke trail that rises from the glyphs Anders' writing on the table warily).

For her part, Méraud seems captivated with both the earring Anders' sporting on his ear, as well as his hair.

"Your earring looks like Dad's!"

Everyone looks at the Commander, who is most certainly not wearing an earring. He clears his throat. He's taken to wearing it on the chain around his neck, above his hunter medallion, but no one really needs to know about that.

In any case, Méraud was not finished.

"And your hair is yellow like Papa's! Only yours is darker, but your skin is paler and also you're a human and you don't have paint on your face and..."

All eyes go to the Commander again.

"I take it you're not 'Papa'?" Nathaniel says, hiding a smile behind a glass of wine.

Kwerkus scratches his neck and tries to act non-chalantly.

"No. She means my husband."

Nathaniel does a double take and almost spits the wine back out. Méraud laughs, while Anders is too busy looking aghast. A few seats over, Oghren starts laughing uproarously too.

"None of you knew? Ha!"

"And you did?" shots Anders back.

"'Course I did. Had to stand half of their 'courtship', if yanno what I mean. Also, I was in the wedding. Was nice."

Kwerkus pinches the bridge of his nose and decides not to add anything to this conversation.

Méraud, meanwhile, has jumped down from Anders' lap and is now making herself comfortable in Kwerkus'. She looks up at him and pokes him in the cheek once.

"When is Papa coming?"

Kwerkus puts a hand on top of her head.

"He's not, Moss. I'm sorry."

"Whaaat? But he said he'd be here!"

Kwerkus stares at her, puzzled, but Méraud suddenly makes a surprised sound, jumps, and covers her mouth with both hands.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you!" she yells, muffled by her hands but still very much audible.

"He told you...?"

"Pleaaase don't say I told! I didn't mean to! Please please please please..."

She's almost crying now and Kwerkus is looking less and less in control of the situation.

Thankfully, Velanna intercedes.

"Moss, you like books and stories, don't you?"

Méraud whips around to look at her, tears still in her eyes, and nods once.

"Well, Sigrun has a lot of books she can show you. Why don't you ask her?"

Méraud sniffles, and looks over at Sigrun, who has been caught off-guard but recovers quickly.

"Of course! There are a lot of books about the dwarfs and the elves, do you want to see them?"

Méraud nods and jumps down, going to Sigrun's side. The dwarf stands, offers her her hand and a smile and takes her away.

Kwerkus sighs with relief and Velanna elbows him in the ribs.

"You're welcome, Commander."

"I have to say," Anders comments "that I've seen you fight against creatures that still give _me_ nightmares but I've never seen such panic in your face before."

In a rare bout of sincerity, Kwerkus just mutters: "Can you blame me?"

Sitting in front of him, Ashalle is nodding sagely while sipping her drink.

"As far as I'm concerned, a crying and screaming child is a very legitimate fear."

Anders shakes his head.

"You'll get no argument from me."

Kwerkus turns to Varel.

"About what she said... Tell the guards that if they find an Antivan elf trying to break in the keep any of these days, please don't kill him. And come get me straight away."

"As you say, Commander. But... how are we supposed to tell he's Antivan...?"

"Oh, believe me, you'll know."

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Méraud insists on sleeping with Kwerkus, because of course she did.

He can't discourage her with "I don't even have a proper bed" because, well, _neither did she_. Dalish upbringings were wonderful for low comfort standards.

So he didn't protest _that much_ and went to sleep with the kid wrapped in both blankets and around himself.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to little mechanical sounds. He gets up, trying not to wake Méraud, but she was just as much of a light sleeper. He gestures to her to stay behind the wall and to keep quiet.

He pads barefoot along the floor to stand in front of the door. The sounds and clicks are getting clearer. He waits. A beat. A minute.

Way too long.

Fed up, he opens the door.

Zevran, on his knees and still holding two lockpicks, looks up and tries to sound affronted.

"I almost had it."

Kwerkus is not impressed.

"I'm just surprised not one caught you on your way up here."

"Have a little faith on your husband, now, would you?"

Méraud makes them both jump up when she shrieks "PAPA!" and runs toward him, still wrapped in a blanket that flutters behind her like a cape.

Zevran pockets the lockpicks and opens his arms to hug her, then stands and starts spinning her around.

"Moooooooooss!"

"Papaaaaaaaa!"

"Would you two quiet it down! You're gonna wake the whole keep!"

He had shouted it too, so the message was mostly lost.

But they do stop screaming, so that's a victory in his books.

And they all stand, in the middle of a dark room, on the top of a tower, smiling at each other like idiots, and Kwerkus has never been happier.

 


End file.
